


The Man in the Striped Pajamas

by locoforloki



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Anger, F/M, Hope, Hurt, Kindness, Love, M/M, Mutants, Pain, Please do not read if upset by this subject, Sexy Times, Sorrow, WARNING:Similarties to the Holocaust&Concentration Camps, WARNINGS:mentions of genocide, World War Three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:44:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locoforloki/pseuds/locoforloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Willkommen to Llega.”</em><br/>Charles Xavier is a world renowned geneticist sent to war-torn Europe's largest concentration camps, based in Germany. He has been painted as the man who shall revolutionize the war. Alongside his lab assistant, Hank McCoy, and European Allies Guard, Alex Summers, he must find the mutants residing within Llega and save them, something his superiors know nothing about.<br/><em> “They don’t know anything, Professor.” Emma snapped impatiently, bundling her notes against her chest. “What Hank was trying to tell you is that we are mutants trying to save other mutants. You, as the head geneticist, are the one that holds all the power. You need to determine who the mutants are and find ways of saving them without revealing what exactly is so spectacular about their genes, do you understand?”</em>.<br/>But Charles wants to save them all, especially one man in particular.<br/><em> His dreams were plagued with pale blue eyes and shark-like smiles. And agony, an aching agony that made it difficult to breathe.The agonies of Erik Lehnsherr. </em><br/>But will Erik allow himself to be saved by the man who wears the uniform of his enemies?<br/>And if so, what is the price they must pay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> My first venture into the X-Men fandom.  
> I hope you enjoy xo

It was raining, the kind of rain that made the ground sink and the rivers flow. Charles had his face pressed against the cool glass of the window, his blue eyes watching on as they passed through the countryside, the train only rocking ever-so-slightly.

“Ah, the marvels of European engineering…” The young man to his right sighed, never looking up from the book of German phrases resting in his hand.

Charles tore his gaze away from the grey land and glanced at the book in his travelling companion’s hand; a beginner’s guide to German. 

“I fear you may need a bit more than a handful of phrases where we are going.” He chuckled with a wry smile.

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” He laughed, his vowels long and exaggerated by his American accent.

The boy beside him was the perfect example of traditional European beauty. He was tanned, blonde and blue eyes with rather impressive muscles if his too tight white shirt was anything to go by. He had a handsome face and a charming smile. Charles narrowed his eyes slightly before speaking again.

“You’re not a solider, are you?” He asked curiously.

The boy smiled wider.

“What makes you think that I’m not?”

Charles frowned, the answer seeming fairly obvious to him.

“Well…You’re American.”

“An American studying in Berlin who has German and Swiss grandparents. The European Chancellor chose me himself.” The boy announced with pride.

Charles offered the chap a rather forced smile before returning his attention to the countryside before them. He had no time for boys who believed in the _European Union_. It was a poisonous dream and one that appeared to be spiraling out of control.

“I am an E.A Guard.” The boy continued on. “And one that has been assigned to you, Professor.”

He heard the boy clear his throat and felt the press of his body against his side. Charles froze for the briefest of seconds before forcing himself to relax, not wanting the American to feel his panic.

“I am no _telepath_ Professor, but your disdain for the Union is clearly written across that smug, British face of yours. A word of advice; hide it.” He whispered into his ear, his breath hot and lips wet.

Charles shivered before schooling his face to one of complete neutrality.

“I will.” He breathed a tad too shakily for his own liking.

The boy nodded and offered Charles his head.

“I’m Alex and obviously a much better actor than you.” He announced with a wink.

He turned back to his book of phrases and began to whistle a tune, one that Charles did not recognise. Charles went back to his window once more and tried to ignore the feeling of helplessness that engulfed him whenever he thought of what was to come.

***

“Dogs. Absolute dogs! _Move it_ dogs, get out of the way!”

Charles disembarked the train and blinked out at the grey wasteland before him. There were fences as high as Victorian houses covered in barbed-wire lining the perimeter of what appeared to be some kind of ghetto settlement. Alex stepped out behind him and opened an umbrella, holding it over Charles’ head like some kind of loyal servant.

“Willkommen to Llega, Professor.” Alex muttered with a rather grim look on his face.

“Your façade is slipping.” Charles pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Alex looked squarely at him, his jaw somewhat clenched.

“When you see _this_ it can sometimes be hard to keep the performance going.”

Charles nodded slowly and stepped off the slippery wooden platform and into the wet mud, squelching loudly as he did so. 

“No welcome party?” Alex joked with one of the other soldiers at they entered the camp.

The French solider said something disgusting in his mother tongue as Charles tried desperately to avoid contact with the hundreds of eyes that were pleading with him silently.

_Please. Please help us. We are starving. We are scared. Help us, please._

Charles startled out of their thoughts as Alex grabbed him by his upper arm roughly.

“It’s hard but you need to block them out.” He ordered.

“You have no idea how difficult it is.” Charles hissed, turning to glare at the boy furiously.

And that was when he saw him. Felt him. Felt the greatest mind he had ever encountered melt into his. Charles’ breath caught in his throat as he locked eyes with hardened blue-grey eyes. He was one of the only prisoners with hair and one of the few who was not filthy. He wore the same clothes as the others; what looked like striped pyjamas with a number printed across the chest. Charles halted in his path and stared at the man before him openly, feeling something _thrum_ beneath his skin excitedly as he held the man’s gaze.

“Herr Xavier, is that piece of shit bothering you?” One of the guards shouted as he walked toward them, his rifle in hand.

Charles tore his eyes away from the mysterious man and regarded the guard coolly. He could sense the fear of the people around him as a few of the other guards looked around threateningly.

“Not at all, Yitzvill.” Charles declared, shaking his head. “I was simply admiring the lovely camp you have set up here. Quite impressive. Nothing at all like the ones I have seen in Latvia.”

Young Yitzvill almost burst with pride.

“Yes, well, the Chancellor designed them himself.” 

Charles highly doubted that but nodded regardless and continued walking through muddy pathway to the main building. 

“He is quite simply a _genius_ , that man.” 

And Charles found that he was actually quite relieved that sarcasm was a foreign concept to Yitzvill and his equally dim-witted comrades because otherwise he surely would have lost his head, if Alex’s panicked expression was anything to go by. Charles threw one last look over his shoulder and found himself oddly delighted to see that the man was still staring, one of his eyebrows quirked with interest. Charles would offer him a smile in any other circumstances but decided that he had pushed his luck far enough for one day. He followed the men inside the main building and shook off the drops of rain that had managed to infiltrate Alex’s umbrella. Charles took off his jacket and looked around at the bare walls before him. He glanced at Alex who beckoned him to follow Yitzvill and Jan down the corridor. He did so and was welcomed into a much brighter room, still bare and sterile but with a fireplace and tables laden down with food.

“You must be hungry.” Yitzvill said with a smile, wrapping one arm around Charles’ shoulders. “Please sit, eat and drink your fill. Tomorrow you may meet with Doctor Schmidt.”

***

Charles didn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned and dreamt of eyes that _haunted_ him.

***

“Ah! This must the geneticist I have been hearing so much about!”

Charles looked up from his rather bland cup of tea and found a tall, older man smiling down at him widely. He put down his cup of tea and went to stand but the other man waved at him to remain sitting.

“Please, enjoy your breakfast, I did not mean to interrupt. I simply wished to lay eyes on the man who is going to revolutionise this war!” He declared loudly, causing more than a few heads to turn.

Charles squirmed in his seat uncomfortably and avoided looking at anyone except for the man standing before him.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that…” He muttered.

The man laughed boisterously.

“The Chancellor said it himself so it must be true!” He exclaimed dropping into the seat opposite Charles. “I’m Doctor Klaus Schmidt, but I am sure you already knew that, Charles Xavier.”

Charles blinked and nodded.

“Yes, well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor.”

Schmidt leaned back in his chair and smirked.

“Please, call me Klaus. And the pleasure is all mine. I have never in all my years come across a geneticist quite like yourself.” 

He stared at Charles until his cheeks turned red and his ears burned. Charles took a cautious sip of his tea and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Am…am I to meet you in the labs at nine or…?”

Schmidt shrugged.

“No. I have surgeries to perform this morning with Nurse Frost. My assistant, an American named Hank McCoy, such an _American_ name…but yes, my assistant has offered to show you the ropes and tell you exactly how we like to do things around here. And when I say _we_ I mean the Chancellor, so yes, there is no room for mistakes.” Schmidt instructed with a cold laugh.

Charles held in his sigh with bitter resignation and nodded.

“Thank you, I shall bear that in mind.”

Schmidt flashed yet another cold, humourless smile and leaned across to take a slice of wholemeal toast from Charles’ plate.

“Good. I hear you are the best and so I cannot expect anything less.”

***

The laboratory was just how Charles imagined it; sterile, well organised and hidden away in the basement of the main building. McCoy was _nothing_ like how Charles imagined him. He was almost impossibly polite, incredibly sharp and _just like Charles_.

“How did you find your way here?” Charles asked as soon as he had settled himself by his steel desk.

Hank shrugged and continued fiddling with the vial in his hands, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously.

“I volunteered.”

Charles smiled kindly.

“I don’t think anyone volunteered for _this_ , my friend.”

Hank looked away and exhaled loudly, his shoulders slumping as he did so.

“I was studying in Moscow. Working with a German scientist and well…you know how _this_ all happened.” Hank explained with a sigh.

Charles hummed in agreement.

“My own professor sold me out. Handed me over to the Europeans with a smile.” He muttered somewhat bitterly. 

Hank nodded and offered Charles a sympathetic smile. He seemed too young to be running a lab by himself but Charles could practically smell his intelligence, his mind moving a mile a minute, never stopping. He reminded him of that mysterious man, prisoner 214782. Charles sighed and looked at Hank for guidance.

“So. What is it that we do around here?”

Hank grimaced and gave Charles a grim look.

“ _You_ are going to be ‘grooming’ prisoners. You’re going to see who has the best genes and what we can take from that.”

Charles felt his stomach drop.

“So basically, I will choose the prisoners that have something genetically worthwhile about them and we shall take that? The part of them that makes them unique from others?”

Hank exhaled once again, a defeated look in his eyes. He put down the vials in his hands and walked toward Charles.

“You’re a mutant. I’m a mutant. Schmidt and Frost are mutants too. Hell, that Alex kid? Even he is a mutant. If you don’t work alongside the Chancellor you’ll be outside with the prisoners. What you specifically have been called in to do, is to find mutants, discover what it is that makes them special and then _convince_ Schmidt that they are worth keeping alive.” Hank urged quietly, his fists clenched by his side.

Charles blinked uncertainly and leaned closer to Hank, his brow furrowed.

“If _they_ know that we are mutants-”

“You are not listening to him, Professor.” 

Charles looked up and felt his breath catch in his throat slightly as he took in the spectacular creature before him. She was beautiful; slim, petite, blonde and blue eyed with a sparkling pink lipstick. She sauntered across the room in her nurses uniform, never once lifting her eyes from Charles’ face.

_You need to listen to Hank if you want to survive, Professor._

Charles almost laughed.

_Another telepath?_

The young woman, whose name appeared to be Emma Frost, judging by the name tag on her uniform, smirked as she reached for whatever files she came to retrieve.

“You hardly thought you were alone, did you?” She teased with a pout and a sparkle in her eyes.

Charles narrowed his eyes once more.

“I am sorry, Ms. Frost, but I am confused. If they know that we are mutants-”

“ _They_ don’t know anything, Professor.” Emma snapped impatiently, bundling her notes against her chest. “What Hank was trying to tell you is that _we_ are mutants trying to save other mutants. You, as the head geneticist, are the one that holds all the power. You need determine who the mutants are and find ways of _saving_ them without revealing what exactly is so spectacular about their genes, do you understand?”

Charles swallowed hard and nodded.

“And what about the others? The prisoners that will be sent my way with nothing unique about their genetic make-up?”

Emma shrugged, making her way to the stairs back to the surgery.

“What about them? At best they are given some bread for their troubles, at worst they are sent straight to their death.”

Charles turned to look at Hank in horror. The young man simply raised his eyebrows and pushed his glasses further up his nose. Charles felt his stomach turn once again and he leaned back in his chair, his mind racing.

“This…this is even more horrible than I imagined.” He croaked.

Hank almost chuckled.

“You haven’t seen what kind of experiments you need to do yet.”

_And you don’t want to either._

***

It was a little after lunch before Charles got to meet with any of the prisoners. Hank handed his first folder and gave him a knowing smile.

“This guy…well…let’s just say that Doctor Schmidt has been trying for months to get him to speak but he won’t. Nothing except for ‘Go fuck yourself’ and ‘Eat shit.’”

Charles smiled back and shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you blame him? I wouldn’t be saying much else either.”

Charles glanced down at the number written across the top of the file and felt his heart skip a beat as he recognised the numerals printed in immaculate hand-writing.

“Erik Lehnsherr…” He murmured, allowing the words to roll across his tongue. “Erik…Erik…Ah! Erik!”

Charles looked up, quite sure that he was blushing under the furious gaze of the man before him. He stood and offered his hand for Erik to shake but the man stands stock-still, his strong jaw raised defiantly.

“How are you?” Charles asked rather lamely.

“Mach es dir selber.” Erik spat, his body tensing beneath those striped pyjama’s, obviously awaiting the blow that Charles vowed to himself would never come.

Hank cleared his throat awkwardly.

“He just told you to go fuck yourself.” He interjected helpfully.

Charles half-smiled.

“Yes, I got that, thank you, Hank.” 

Charles paused for a moment before returning his attention to Erik.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, indicating to the seat in front of his desk.

“Mach es dir selber.” Erik repeated with more venom.

Charles nodded and looked at Erik with wide, honest eyes.

“I don’t blame you for being angry. In fact, I would upset if you were not. But I am not your enemy; I want to help you.”

_Please let me help you._

Erik’s eyes widened and he jumped; the chains around his wrists and ankles jangling as he did so. He looked around the room, frantically searching, his blue-grey eyes round and terrified looking. 

_It’s alright. It’s me, Charles. I want to help you, Erik._

“Leck mich am Arsch.” Erik snarled and Charles was struck by how dangerous his mouth was.

“He told you to lick his-”

“I understand, Hank, thank you.” Charles sighed.

Charles drummed his fingers against the table for a few moments before trying again.

_You are not alone. I am like you._

“You are not like me.” Erik spoke suddenly, causing Hank to nearly fall from his stool. “You sit here in your uniform with your notepad and your pens and warm bed and hot food and tell me that you are like me? We could not be more different, mein Freund.”

Charles smiled kindly.

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it? But we are more similar than you think. I too feel as if I am alone and I am not here out of my own free will. I know that that may seem hard to believe, but I _need_ you to believe that I can help you.” Charles urged.

Erik shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes narrowed and his sharp, pink tongue poking out from between his chapped lips. Finally he spoke;

“How?”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting and kudosing!
> 
> I know that this AU is a little strange and probably not a pleasant read so I thank you all who tried
> 
> Much love
> 
> x

Charles collapsed into his bed after his first day. He slowly untied the knot in his tie and stretched out on the rock hard bed beneath him, his back arched as he moaned loudly. He was exhausted. Working with Erik had been terrifying yet exhilarating. The mind that that man possessed was like nothing he had ever felt before. Each and every one of his thoughts was sharp and dangerous like the man himself. He excited Charles in ways he didn’t think possible. Charles and Hank were only allowed work with him for an hour and then they had had to send the man back outside in the freezing rain. Charles did not miss the shiver of fear that ran through Erik’s body as he prepared to himself to re-join his fellow prisoners

“I will help you.” Charles had promised.

And he had meant it. There was no way that he would let a great mind like Erik Lehnsherr’s go unnoticed, unsaved. That had probably been the easiest part of his day. The rest of his hours had been spent taking blood samples from crying women and shrieking children and men that _swore_ they had the gold to pay for their freedom and why shouldn’t they be free? Why? 

“You will be.” Charles had murmured countless times, unable to help himself. “Someday you will be free, I swear it.”

Charles stared up at the black ceiling above his head and found himself wondering if there really was a God and if so, why he had decided to forsake these people. A knock on his door startled him from his thoughts and he slowly made his way to the door, not in the mood to socialize with anyone this night. He pulled the door open and blinked in surprise to see Alex grinning back at him.

“Can I come in?” he asked brazenly.

Charles shrugged and stepped aside.

“I cannot really be seen refusing an European Allied Guard, can I?”

Alex smiled even wider and stepped inside, giving Charles’ room the once over with an approving nod.

“It’s true what they say; the science geeks really do get it all.”

Charles glanced at his bare, sparse surroundings and pulled a face.

“I dread to think what your room is like so.”

Alex shrugged, leaning against the wall behind him.

“I don’t have a room. I have a dorm shared with eleven other soldiers. This is paradise compared to _that_.”

Charles sighed wearily and sat down on the edge of his mattress, regarding Alex with tired eyes.

“I really do not mean to be rude but-”

“You’re exhausted, emotionally drained and physically scarred after your first day and just want to curl into a ball and cry? I get you, I’ve been there myself. I just wanted to check on you and make sure that you were ok.” Alex explained with a kind smile.

Charles blinked at him a few times before nodding.

“Yes. I’m…ok.” 

Alex nodded and straightened up. He tipped his hat at Charles and pulled the door open. He left with a small smile and closed the door behind him silently. Charles exhaled and lay back on the bed, too tried to even rid himself of his uniform. 

 

***

His dreams were plagued with pale blue eyes and shark-like smiles.

And agony, an _aching_ agony that made it difficult to breathe.

***

“Gratulation, mein Freund!” Schmidt erupted the moment Charles stepped into the canteen the following morning. “You made Lehnsherr speak! I am most impressed.”

He beamed at Charles but the smile did not meet his eyes. Charles offered him a slightly less enthusiastic smile and went to sit by the window, alone. Schmidt kicked out a chair as he passed, however, and watched Charles expectantly. 

“Come. Sit with me, Professor.”

Charles glanced at him and knew that Schmidt was ordering him to sit. He nodded slowly and slid into the sit before him. Schmidt continued to smile as he watched Charles reach for a slice of brown bread. Charles buttered it and cut it into quarters whilst Schmidt silently observed. 

“How did you sleep?” Schmidt finally asked.

Charles swallowed his bread and shrugged.

“As well as possible, I suppose, given the circumstances.” He answered truthfully.

Schmidt nodded knowingly.

“Yes, Emma struggled a bit at the start as well. It is always the _sensitive_ ones, isn’t it?” He said airily. “So, Hank tells me that Lehnsherr is willing to become one of our patients? Fascinating. You know, I have been working with him for almost two months and I could not get anything from him?”

Schmidt stared at Charles intently. Charles calmly sipped his tea and shrugged one shoulder.

“It wasn’t easy. He is a man who likes to stand his ground.”

Schmidt chewed on his sausage loudly before narrowing his eyes and laughing.

“I sense that you do too, Professor. That is good. I like a challenge.”

***

Erik sat in his bunk and stared at the ground beneath his feet. The smell was over-powering. Everything around him was decaying, the people included. A young boy to his right was curled in a ball, clutching at his stomach and sobbing soundlessly. Erik watched him, watched as the tears poured down his cheeks, watched the way his mouth opened and closed with silent screams. 

“Haben sie Hunger?” Erik whispered, one eye on the guard by the doorway.

The young boy opened his eyes and looked up at Erik hopefully.

“Ja, mein Herr.” The boy croaked, nodding as energetically as he possibly could.

Erik glanced at the guard once more before throwing what was left of his daily ration of bread at the boy. The boy caught it eagerly and shoved the hard crust into his mouth greedily. Erik slowly smiled at him and nodded.

“Besser?” Erik asked.

The boy smiled and looked up at Erik with something close to admiration. 

“Danke.” He croaked. 

Erik waved his thanks away and turned all his attention back to the guard at the door.

“You’re a _good_ man.”

Erik turned around and looked at the man behind him carefully. The prisoner who had spoken was filthy, covered in dried blood and dirt. He grinned at Erik toothily and winked.

“There are no good men here.” Erik replied, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Because the good were weak and the weak were preyed upon. The man sniffled loudly and moved closer to Erik, climbing across his bunk onto the one where he was sitting.

“I am terribly cold.” He muttered. “If I could just borrow your blanket for a few hours…”

The man reached across to grab Erik’s blanket. Erik latched on to his wrist and twisted until he heard the satisfying sound of bone snapping. The man howled in agony and the boy beside Erik began to scream, scrambling away from them both fearfully. The guard at the door spun around and raced inside his gun raised. The filthy prisoner crawled away, still howling like a wounded animal. Erik stood just as the guard smashed the butt of his rifle against Erik’s cheek. Erik clenched his fists and fought the urge to turn the gun around on the guard and make him shoot himself. The guard hit him again and again, until Erik fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Stay down, you piece of shit.” He spat.

Erik grunted once more and watched as the guard returned to his post. He rolled over on the shit covered floor, breathing heavily through his nostrils. He stared up at the wooden ceiling before him and felt the anger simmer and bubble inside him. A light hand on his shoulder calmed him somewhat and he opened his eyes to see the tearful eyes of the young boy.

“Wasser?” The boy breathed, holding a small tin of water in his hand.

Erik nodded.

“Bitte.”

***

“Surprised you came back.” Hank joked as Charles sat down opposite him.

Charles smiled and raised his cup of tea.

“I didn’t fancy my chances making a run for it.” He half-joked.

Hank nodded, a wistful look on his face.

“Every night I weigh up the odds.” He revealed.

Charles took a large gulp of tea and hummed around the rim of his tea cup. 

“We should remind ourselves of our own good fortune. Things could be so much worse.” He muttered.

Hank regarded him quietly for a moment before nodding. He turned his attention back to the work before him and Charles did the same. He picked up the file on his desk and half-smiled as he read the familiar name written across the top.

“Must we meet with him every day now that we have decided that we need him?” Charles asked bemusedly.

Hank cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced at Charles uncertainly, unable to decide whether Charles was joking or not. Charles raised one eyebrow.

“We must?” He guessed.

Hank nodded.

“In order to ensure that he is kept _alive_ , Professor.” Hank answered slowly.

Charles leaned back in his seat and frowned at Hank rather incredulously.

“But we have explained his worth, well, Schmidt has and the SS leaders have sworn that he shall not be harmed.” 

Hank snorted softly and looked at Charles pityingly.

“Listen, Professor, it’s not only the European Allies that we have to worry about. There’s his other inmates, hunger, disease, _suicide_ …we have to check on our chosen few every day to make sure that they’re okay.” Hank said softly.

Charles slammed his mug against the table furiously, not really sure _why_ his is so angry. He glared at Hank, his red lips set in a thin line of fury.

“Do you mean to tell me that we have no way of actually protecting our own people? That we simply have to check on them every day in the _hope_ that they may actually turn up?” He snapped.

Hank frowned at Charles, the tips of his ears darkening as he flustered. 

“It’s the-the best we can do! What other options do we have?” he demanded, his own fists clenching by his side. “There are literally thousands of people dying out there, Professor. To even be able to keep our select few _alive_ is an achievement.”

“But there shouldn’t be thousands of people dying!” Charles yelled exasperatedly. “ _This_ shouldn’t be happening!”

Hank appeared to be ready to say something else but changed his mind just as he opened his mouth. He took in Charles flushed cheeks and tense body and nodded.

“You’re right.” He said quietly. “This shouldn’t be happening but it is and if we try and save more than the few we have been given then they’ll take us down too.”

Charles licked at his chapped lips and sighed.

“I would rather die doing the right thing than complaining about those doing the wrong one.”

Hank smiled.

“I don’t think you’d be surprised by how quickly that could be arranged.”

***

When Erik walked into the lab, Charles shot out of his chair and raced towards the taller man, his bright blue eyes taking in his bruised and bloodied cheeks with shock.

“Who did this?” he demanded, steering Erik towards a seat.

Erik shook him off angrily and shoved the smaller man away.

“Stop.” He growled.

Charles sighed impatiently and put his hands on his hips.

“You need an antiseptic for the cuts otherwise they’ll become infected.”

Erik turned his attention to Hank, one eyebrow raised expectantly. Hank jumped out of his seat and raced over to the First Aid box, grabbing the wash and handing it to Erik. Erik took a small piece of cotton from the table beside him and wiped the cuts quickly, not wincing in the slightest. Charles watched on with interest, still standing close beside Erik.

“Happy?” Erik grumbled as he returned the bottle to Hank.

“Very.” Charles said brightly.

Their eyes met and Charles felt a shiver run through him as his own mind blended with Erik’s. His thoughts were sharp, jagged, painful. Images flashed before him, a woman, his mother, a gun, Schmidt. Charles eyes widened as he saw what came next. Only then did Erik look away. The taller man pushed past Charles and took a seat at the opposite side of the room. Once he had taken his seat Hank handed him some fresh bread and milk.

“Danke.” Erik grunted before slathering the brown bread in butter and pushing the food into his mouth hungrily.

Charles gave him a few moments to finish his food. He paced the room as Erik chewed, his mind racing from what Erik had just shown him.

“You want to know why.” Erik stated after downing his glass of milk.

Charles turned to face him, a wondrous look on his face.

“Yes.” He said simply.

“Because he could and he wanted to show me that he was in charge.” Erik explained with a grim look on his face. “And I know he is your superior, but I will kill him.”

Hank coughed uncomfortably and looked at Charles with a rather panicked expression. Charles took no notice, however, and continued to watch Erik with an interested expression.

“What good will that do?” he asked.

Erik shrugged.

“It won’t bring you peace.” Charles continued.

Erik snorted.

“Peace? Do you think anything will bring me peace after seeing what I have seen? I am to be forever tormented, mein Freund.” 

“Not if you let me help you. If you let me, I can teach you how to bring yourself peace _without_ killing Schmidt.” Charles urged.

Erik half-smiled.

“I will let you help me but only if you let me kill Schmidt.”

Charles glanced at Hank who was looking at Erik as if he were crazy. But Charles knew he wasn’t. Never had he come across a mind as controlled and clear-cut as Erik’s. The man was entirely sane and terrifyingly dangerous because of that. Charles cleared his throat and held out his hand for Erik to shake.

“You have a deal.”


	3. Three

“Monsieur, I can tell you are a good man, I can _feel_ it and I beg of you, please, save my son. He is only nine, Monsieur, only nine! Do you have children, Monsieur? Do you know what it is like to worry about a child? Especially in this place, in this _Hell_. Please…please…”

Charles stared at the desperate woman before him helplessly. Her eyes were red raw from crying and the tears continued to flow without fail. Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke and her hands shook as she pulled at the hem of her dress compulsively. Charles glanced at Hank who was resolutely looking anywhere than at them. Charles gently put down his syringe on the table and furrowed his brows unhappily.

“Madame, I wish that I could help you, I really do but-”

The woman’s wail cut Charles short.

“Don’t leave him here to die, to rot. _Please_ , he is my only child. He is all that I have left, Monsieur, please.”

Charles exhaled loudly and turned his face away, trying with all his might to keep the images of her son from entering his head. He shut his eyes tightly and felt his fists clench by his side.

“If I could help you, I would.” Charles managed to bite out, the bright brown eyes of a young boy haunting his mind.

The woman went to wail once more but is silenced by the E.A guard named Vlad that stormed into the room.

“She is causing you bother, Herr Xavier?” He commanded, the look of disgust on his face almost chilling.

Charles went to shake his head but Hank quickly stepped in.

“We’ve taken her blood sample. She seems a bit hysterical, afraid of needles I think. She just needs some rest.” He instructed firmly.

The guard raised an eyebrow and looked at Charles doubtfully.

“Rest? She needs to work in order to earn her keep.”

Charles cleared his throat and pushed her memories out of his mind, a light sweat after breaking out across his brow.

“She needs to see her son. I want him brought here to me. I think he may be of interest to the doctor.” Charles ordered quietly.

Hank gaped openly as the woman bowed her head gratefully, her entire body shaking.

“Danke, danke, Monsieur.” She whispered.

Vlad simply raised his eyebrows and pulled at the woman viciously.

“Come along then, cunt.” He spat and Charles couldn’t help but wince at the language.

He dragged the woman out of the room roughly and Hank slammed the door behind him, a worried expression on his face.

“Charles, I-”

“Not now, Hank. Please.” Charles muttered, resting his head in his hands.

Hank cleared his throat awkwardly and Charles could hear him making his way across the room.

“I wish I didn’t have to say this _now_ but you can’t do this. You can’t start making up excuses to keep them alive. If anyone finds out then-”

“Then what?” Charles suddenly snapped, looking up at Hank furiously. “They’ll kill us just like they’re killing the thousands out there? Good. I’d rather die alongside them.”

Hank snorted disbelievingly, his arms folded across his chest defensively.

“This isn’t about you, Professor. This isn’t about what helps you feel better. This is about us trying to save what is left of _our_ kind. Do you know that the Chancellor has tried to enforce an _international_ policy that requests all mutants be sent here? Do you know how many allies that man has? Mutants are being shipped from all across the world to these death camps so that they can experiment on them and ultimately _wipe them out_. Don’t you see? There is so much more at stake here than making you feel good about yourself!” Hank said angrily.

Charles blinked at the younger man in surprise.

“He is trying to wipe out more than just mutants, Hank. Why can’t we try and save them all? Why?” He demanded.

Hank shook his head and raised his hands in defeat. 

“I can’t make you understand, Professor. I can’t force you to see why it is _vital_ we try and save our own kind first. Just…please, stop risking everything _I_ have worked hard to put in place.” He sighed before reaching for his jacket and walking out of the lab.

Charles stared after him, his chin raised defiantly, even though there was no one else in the room. He very meticulously folded the notes in front of him and placed them inside one of the paper manila envelopes. His hands were shaking and he felt strangely ill. He walked over to the steel filing cabinet in the room and placed the notes inside, only stumbling slightly. He stopped, however, when he felt the presence of another person enter the room.

“The French boy you asked for is dead.” Emma announced with a sigh, sauntering through the laboratory. “He died on the operating table about a week ago. As far as I could tell there was nothing spectacular about him.”

Charles turned to face her and was surprised when he found her almost pressed against his chest. He took a steadying breath and looked her square in the eye.

“He shouldn’t have to be _spectacular_ in order to live, Miss Frost.”

Emma bit her lip slowly before laughing, a light, tinkling sound that made the hairs on the back of Charles’ neck stand on end.

“You want so desperately to be _good_ , don’t you, Professor? You _need_ to be the good guy. It’d almost be endearing if it weren’t so pitiful.” She said softly, one hand coming to rest right over Charles’ heart.

Charles wanted to step away from her. He wanted to step outside the room and never come back. Emma’s nails gently scratched at Charles’ shirt and she giggled.

“You think we’re all murderers.” She stated with a smile.

“I know it.” Charles corrected quietly.

Emma laughed again and shook her head, her brows furrowing slightly.

“You’re new here; you think you can change it all. You can’t. You can’t beat _this_ system, Professor. You’re an educated man; I think that deep down you realize the extent of the Chancellor’s power you just don’t want to admit it. This isn’t a game. He wants to wipe out anyone that he deems ‘unworthy’ and mutants are bottom of the pile.” Emma exhaled. “Schmidt wants to save who he can. And he’ll do that with or without your help.”

Emma moved her hand from Charles’ chest and smiled almost kindly before leaning past him and reaching for some notes. Charles could smell her perfume and found himself turning his head towards her neck almost despite himself. Emma moved her head slightly so that she could smile at him, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

“You’re lonely.” She whispered. “I can feel it _oozing_ from you.”

Charles nodded against his will, his lips mere inches from Emma’s. Emma placed a chaste kiss against his lips, an unheated peck. She looked at him with something akin to sympathy in her eyes, her pink lips twisted sadly.

“You think you have nothing to lose, Professor, but I don’t think you’ll ever realize how precious just one life is until you lose one that means something to you.” 

Charles frowned.

“All lives are precious, Miss Frost.”

Emma moved away from him, her notes bundled against her chest. She tilted her head to the side and almost smirked.

“Then stop putting them at risk. Because they’ll kill us all, Professor, if you keep behaving the way you are.”

***

Erik leaned against the metal railings behind him and closed his eyes, savouring the energy and vibrations running through his body as the fences quivered beneath his touch. He ran his hands along the mesh wiring and smiled as he felt it bending slightly to fit to the curve of his hand. This was as close to happiness that he could experience. He could hear the metal crying, begging to be touched and how Erik wished he could. He longed to tear the metal barriers down and wrap them around his enemies. He wanted to watch them choke and bleed and plead for mercy. He would make them crowns of barbed wire and nail them to their heads and make them walk until they felt their legs go from under them and then-

“Hey, Lehnsherr.”

Erik cracked one eye open and regarded the E.A. Guard before him warily. He was a strange guard, Erik thought. He was an American trying to be a European, something Erik was almost disappointed the Chancellor didn’t realize. But then Alex was one of _them_ , wasn't he? A mutant.

“Ja, mein Herr?”

“You got a date with the Professor in like, ten minutes.” He stated. “Why are you rolling around here in what can only be described as a state of post-orgasmic bliss?”

Erik bit back a smile and looked up at Alex ruefully.

“Am I supposed to be there now, mein Herr, or am I supposed to meet him in ten minutes?”

The young guard smiled and bent down to a crouch, his eyes dancing with humour. He leaned closer to Erik until they were literally inches apart.

“Can I give you some advice?” He whispered, taking in the bruises and cuts on Erik’s cheeks. “Save the smart-ass routine for when you get out of here. You’re pissing off some of the bigger fish in this pond and the Professor can only give you so much protection.”

Erik averted his gaze angrily.

“I don’t _need_ his protection, I have done perfectly fine without.”

Alex smiled.

“We both know that’s not true, now don’t we? It was Nurse Frost who pleaded and begged and wrote to the main man himself in order to get you off the firing squad hit list. And it was McCoy who sat by your bedside for three days nursing you back from pneumonia. You need us.”

Erik frowned and removed his hands from the metal fence behind him. He leaned so close to the young American guard that he could feel his breath against his cheeks. He stared him in the eye, his teeth bared and vicious.

“I would rather have died than live through this, you ignorant pig.” Erik growled, feeling the energy from the metal coil inside him and preparing him to pounce. 

“Relax, Lehnsherr. I’m your friend.” The guard urged quietly. “And the sooner you see that, the better.”

Erik spat at the his feet.

“I have no friends. I have _nothing_.”

 _You want to die_.

Erik spun around at the sound of _that_ voice. The American guard jumped to his feet and strolled over to where the Professor was standing. Charles didn’t acknowledge his presence however, his gaze hot and intense on Erik’s face.

_Stay out of my head._

Charles opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a loud whistle and the sound of drums. Erik paled and felt his heart throw itself against his chest. He looked around, a panicked expression on his face, and watched as the guards began dragging people over to form the death march. The American guard muttered something to Charles and walked away swiftly, grabbing a hold of random prisoners as he did so. People began to shriek in terror and race towards their bunks, stumbling and falling as they did so. Erik remained stock-still and waited. He could vaguely make out the sound of the Professor talking to a different guard in French. The guard in question was staring at him and nodding his head repeatedly. After a few moments he started to move towards Erik, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Get up, dog. Your master wants you.” He ordered.

Erik looked over to where Charles was standing and hated the wave of relief that washed over him when he realized that he was being saved.

 _You_ do _want to live. Interesting._

***

Schmidt sighed impatiently and drummed his fingers against the wooden table beneath them. He glanced at Hank who was quickly taking notes as Monsieur Dupoint spoke on and on about things that were of no relevance to them. This amount of soldiers dead, that amount of aid needed by the soldiers stranded in Russia. Spain wanted this, France demanded that, the Americans wish this...blah, blah, blah. None of it mattered, not to _them_ at least. Finally Dupoint fell quiet long enough to nod at Schmidt.

“What is it, Doctor, which is of such vital importance that you demanded a meeting with me?” he asked in a bored voice.

Schmidt smiled sweetly and straightened up in his seat. He cleared his throat and fixed the bundle of papers before him.

“Well, Monsieur, as you are aware of, we have recently been gifted by the presence of one Professor Charles Xavier and the man exceeds his reputation. He really is quite the wonder. However, the facilities in which he is working in…well, let us just say that they leave a lot to be desired. Now, the Professor hasn’t complained to me personally but he has been heard to say that he expected better.” Schmidt announced with a put upon sigh. “I am uncertain as to where I should begin…for there really are a lot of things required if we are to carry out the Fuhrers orders.”

Dupoint raised his eyebrows and pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“Like what, Doctor?”

Schmidt smiled once again.

“Well, we were thinking of perhaps allocating some holding rooms where we could place the selected prisoners for the length of time that we are experimenting on them for? Also, the Professor has made it quite clear that the selected few need a more balanced and nutritional diet. He is struggling to see any good in them at all because of how malnourished they are and-”

Dupoint laughed loudly and shook his head.

“Oh, mon ami, excuse me but your demands are ridiculous. It is not a holiday camp we are running here. The Professor shall just have to make do with what he has. We have soldiers starving on the front-line, why would we waste money on the pieces of shit residing here?”

Schmidt sniffed and felt himself colouring with embarrassment. He rubbed at some imaginary lint on the front of his suit and forced himself to smile good-naturedly. 

“Why indeed?” he chortled. “As I said, these were the demands of Professor Xavier, a rather soft-hearted Briton.”

Hank glanced at him uneasily but Schmidt ignored him. Dupoint sighed and nodded.

“I understand. Sometimes our superiors ask strange things of us… tell the Professor that he may have a single holding cell and that any extra food to be given to the prisoners can come off his own plate.”

Schmidt clapped his hands together excitedly and laughed.

“Wunderbar! Danke!”

***

“You were in my head.” Erik stated once they were inside the confinements of the laboratory.

Charles nodded.

“I was.”

“Why?” Erik demanded. “What right do you have to enter my head?”

Charles coughed and cleared his throat, a slight flush colouring the tops of his cheeks. He took a sip from his teacup before responding.

“I…for some reason I feel _your_ distress more acutely than the others surrounding you.”

Erik’s face remained neutral as he processed that information. Charles simply looked on helplessly, hoping that he hadn’t destroyed any rapport they had just built.

“I don’t want you in my head.” Erik said finally.

Charles nodded once again.

“Ok.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed.

“Swear to me. Swear to me that you will not go into my head.” He ordered.

Charles leaned forward, an almost awkwardly earnest expression on his face.

“I swear to you that I will try.”

Erik made a humming sound and nodded once to show his approval. Charles exhaled and sat back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re the first person who’s ever asked me to do that.” He mused with a light chuckle.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever needed to ask.” Erik said wryly.

Charles’ smile softened and he leaned across the table once more, this time to lay his hand atop Erik’s in a comforting gesture. 

There was no warning; one moment they were simply looking at each other and the next Erik could feel every inch of Charles’ skin, could almost absorb every emotion he had ever had. A pang of painful loneliness hit him like a freight train and Erik gasped aloud as he saw a woman that Charles related to as sister being dragged away by men in European Allies uniforms, her blue eyes wide and pleading. The woman opened her mouth to shout something but Charles tore his hand away, his own blue eyes wider than hers and shining with tears.

“H-how did that-?” Charles started to say when the door opened behind them.

Both men turned to look as Schmidt and Hank strolled into the room. Well, Schmidt strolled and Hank lagged behind. Schmidt’s smile widened even further when he saw Erik.

“Mein Freund!” He declared joyously. “It has been much too long!”

Erik stiffened and dropped his gaze.

“Hello, mein Herr.” He said emotionlessly.

Schmidt laughed a delighted laugh and regarded Erik with a glowing look of affection.

“You are just perfect; do you know that, Erik? You are such a marvel.” He said warmly before turning his attention to Charles. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wrap this up as I really need to discuss some business with you.”

“Ah. Um. Yes. Excellent.” Charles stuttered, clearly flustered.

He glanced at Erik, his eyes still too wide and too wet. 

“Thank you for your participation, Mr. Lehnsherr. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Alex strutted into the lab as though waiting for his cue and nodded at Erik.

“Let’s go, Smart-Ass.”

Charles, Schmidt and Hank wanted until they were alone before anyone spoke. Schmidt clapped his hands together loudly and smirked at Charles in a knowing manner.

“You seem quite shocked by something, Professor. Is Erik giving you a hard time?” he teased.

Charles shook his head slowly.

“No, no, not at all… I’m just…excuse me. Please. Tell me your news.” He breathed.

Schmidt raised his eyebrows but nodded anyways.

“Alright, alright, but you may need to sit down.” He mocked. “I told you the Chancellor was an admirer of your work but really, well, I never even _dreamed_ that he would be this smitten by you…”


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers!
> 
> Some of you may have noticed that there have been a few changes to the story! This is because some readers found the premise of the story a little offensive so I have changed a few details in order to right that!
> 
> This now occurring throughout WW3. The European Union has fallen and the Euro has crashed. Germany, Spain, France, Italy and Eastern Europe have all united in a bid to re-establish the European Empire. To do this, they feel as if they need to 'cleanse' themselves of mutants, homosexuals, gypsies and those opposed to their new dream.
> 
> Charles has been drafted in to work for the European Allies (E.A.) in a work camp in Germany called Llega. 
> 
> Besides that, all other details remain the same as does the plot!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading thus far!

“You need to write a report on the new equipment.” Emma explained as she handed Charles a bundle of yellow sheets.

Charles sighed and looked at her helplessly.

“Can’t Schmidt do it? I really have _no_ idea what it is he wants.”

Emma laughed and tilted her head to the side, smiling at Charles in an endearing fashion. She leaned against the steel desk between them and raised her eyebrows.

“They said that you were a genius, Professor but I’m not so sure…do I really have to explain every little detail to you?”

She was teasing but Charles still found her words more than a little patronizing. 

“I’m new to this whole ‘helping create the European ideal’ thing, sorry Nurse Frost.” He snapped coldly.

Emma’s smile only widened as she took him in, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Write down whatever you need to keep the mutants safe.” She said with a soft giggle. “Schmidt likes you; he wouldn’t have gone to Dupoint for anyone else.”

 

***

 

Alex watched on from a distance as Erik worked alongside his fellow prisoners. He was much stronger and healthier looking than the others, cleaner even. His back was straight, his eyes were downcast and he worked with such an intensity that Alex was very surprised that he hadn’t been promoted to working on the realignment of the railroads that had been practically destroyed after the first wave of bombings.

He turned to the officer beside him and nudged him.

“What do you think of Lehnsherr?” he asked as casually as he dared.

The officer, a young man named Frehzin, raised his eyebrows as he took Erik in.

“I think he is a piece of shit like the rest of them.” He answered quietly.

Alex smirked at Frehzin and raised his own eyebrows in disbelief.

“Maybe but you can’t deny that he’s a hard-working piece of shit.” Alex said with a wink.

Frehzin looked at Alex wearily and shrugged.

“What do you want? You want more food rations for him? New boots? What?”

Alex pulled a thoughtful face before clicking his fingers as though an idea had just struck him.

“What about making him a railroad labourer?” he exclaimed.

Frehzin half-smiled and shook his head at Alex.

“You’re serious? This guy must give spectacular head. Word of advice; choose a female prisoner with small tits if you tend to lean that way. It’s a lot less messy.”

Alex felt himself blush at the insinuation. He frowned at the officer angrily.

“No, I’m not like _that_ , I just think that he’s a decent guy and a good worker. He could motivate the rest of them to perform better. That’s all.”

Frehzin laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“The more you speak, little American, the less I like you. How about you shut up and just let Lehnsherr stay where he is? He is already under that stupid British man’s wing and a part of Schmidt’s inner circle. I’m beginning to wonder what’s so special about him.”

Alex sniffed and shrugged his shoulders, looking Frehzin square in the eye.

“Nothin’. Just thought you’d know a good worker when you saw one.”

 

***

 

Emma pursed her lips and watched as Schmidt dressed himself before her. He dressed with such precision and attention to detail that sometimes she really did wonder if the European Allies learned that much from _him_.

“What do you think of the telepath?” she asked as she lit a cigarette.

Schmidt looked at her thoughtfully.

“Why? Are you going to ask him for a threesome?” 

Emma rolled her eyes.

“I want to know what you think of him.” She said simply.

Schmidt half-smiled and shrugged as he buttoned his shirt.

“He’s exceptionally intelligent, he’s hard-working, he’s kind and compassionate. Overall, a very valuable asset for us when this war is over.” Schmidt said with a grin.

Emma nodded.

“He is. Although, you already have a telepath.” She pointed out.

Schmidt smirked.

“He’s better at it than you; I can hardly feel him in my mind.”

Emma bristled a little at this but chose to remain silent. Schmidt pulled on his jacket and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Tell me what you think of him.” He ordered.

Emma smiled sweetly.

“The exact same as you.”

Schmidt laughed.

“Liar. Tell me what you _really_ think.”

Emma sighed and took a deep drag of her cigarette before speaking.

“He’s lonely. His sister has been captured and taken to some camp; I don’t know where, I’ve tried to find her but there are no records of her being anywhere. That’s his biggest pressure point. He _needs_ to find her or he’s going to continue to place us all at risk. He’s reckless.” Emma exhaled loudly and looked up at Schmidt helplessly. “He thinks we’re all the bad guys and that he’s the only one struggling with how things are run here. He has a soft spot for Lehnsherr, but that’s so obvious I think even you probably noticed that.”

Schmidt laughed loudly.

“Tell me one person who doesn’t have a soft spot for Lehnsherr? He’s spectacular. Just wait until Xavier realizes exactly how strong Erik is. He’ll be blown away.”

Emma shrugged non-committedly.

“I know plenty who want him dead.”

Schmidt nodded, acknowledging her point.

“We won’t let that happen though, will we my sweet? He’s too valuable.”

 

***

 

“The Americans are gaining on us! They’ve already landed in Ireland and the British are threatening to leave Europe if the Chancellor continues to defy their wishes like this!” Charles heard one soldier exclaim.

The one opposite him shook his head knowingly.

“If the British leave Europe, France will follow, mark my words.”

“France _can’t_ follow; they’ve already enlisted over a million men! Britain has only given us ships and fuel. They’ve made no real investment.”

“They gave us all their mutants.” Charles said with a small cough.

The three soldiers seated at his table turn to look at him. Charles offered them a slight smile and raised his eyebrows.

“And the majority of their gypsy community. I don’t think the Americans will actually want to join forces after that.”

One of the younger soldiers, a Polish boy named Sven, frowned.

“But they haven’t given us anything that is of worth! If the British pull out and offer the Americans their country as a base then-”

“Then the Americans have simply acquired a closer base.” Charles explained. “You said it yourself; the British haven’t aided the war in any way except for a few ships and some fuel. It will be of no great loss so please don’t worry yourself over it.”

Because the boy was _extremely_ worried. Charles could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off him. Sven looked at Charles uncertainly whilst his friends shook their heads.

“No offense, Professor, but what do you know about war strategies?” Rafus asked, his dark eyebrows raised.

Charles shrugged.

“Nothing. But I _do_ have a keen interest in politics and I have shared my political opinion with you. However, there is a possibility that I may be wrong and if I am then the Americans and the British will probably obliterate Europe with the help of the Chinese, if America can find it in their hearts to accept them. The likes of you and I will probably be tortured in places like Guantanamo and then left to rot in prison cells…if we’re not already dead. A European Union will never be restored or rebuilt and my guess would be that it will all become a part of the Commonwealth.” Charles declared through a mouthful of chicken. “I didn’t really want to say all that given that your friend now looks as though he needs to breathe into a brown paper bag…which ah! I have one here.” 

Charles unfolded the paper bag and handed it to Sven.

“Deep slow breaths, my friend.” He instructed whilst Rafus looked at him in amazement. 

Charles watched the young man with pity and offered Rafus a tight smile.

“Not everyone needs to hear the truth all the time.”

 

***

 

“Why am I here?” Erik asked around a mug of soup.

It was a bitterly cold day and even Charles, with all his layers of wool and tweed, was feeling the cruel chill. He couldn’t help but notice the broken skin around Erik’s knuckles or the way his hands shook from the cold. 

“Charles?” He prompted. “Answer me.”

Charles smiled lopsidedly and ran a hand through his dark hair so that it flopped forward, making him look impossibly young.

“Why are you here in my office? Or why are you _here_ in this place?” Charles queried with a smirk.

Erik stared back at him stonily.

“I know why I am _here_ , Xavier.” He snapped coldly.

“Why?” Charles pushed.

Because Erik’s notes barely scratched the surface. The Europeans had no idea that he was a mutant, the crime for which he was sent here was unknown and the length of his stay simply read ‘until termination’. Charles _needed_ to know more, he needed to know how Erik ended up in this place.

“Why don’t you just read my mind and see?” Erik growled.

“Because I promised you I would never do that.” Charles answered without missing a beat.

A slight twitch of Erik’s lips told him that he had passed whatever test Erik had just set him. The taller man shifted in his seat and licked his chapped lips thoughtfully.

“Is it not in my notes?” he pondered quietly.

“No. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make sure the reason you were arrested is unknown.” Charles said truthfully.

Erik took a gulp of his soup before shrugging his shoulders.

“I am unworthy, Charles. In the eyes of those _pitiful_ humans I am considered dirt.”

“But _how_?” 

Erik simply shrugged once again and averted his gaze, his steely eyes clouded with something Charles could not decipher. 

“There are others who could do with a mug of soup.” Erik said carefully.

Charles nodded.

“I’m trying to get around the authorities and have soup distributed instead of bread.” 

Erik laughed suddenly, a barking sound that makes Charles jump. He shook his head at Charles, a cold smile twisting his lips and revealing his glistening teeth.

“You’re a fool.” He finally puffed.

Charles raised his eyebrows and regarded Erik calmly.

“How?”

“You think that you’re going to become our saviour, don’t you? You think that all the prisoners of Llega are going to remember the Briton that gave them soup and hope and showed them kindness, don’t you?” He chuckled nastily. “You think we _need_ you.”

Charles frowned, uncertain as to where Erik’s sudden coldness had come from.

“I don’t think that, no. But I do _know_ that you all need someone to try and enlighten your path, Erik and that is all that I seek to do. I only wish to help those who-”

“Who _exactly_ are you helping, Charles? It’s not the thousands of starving people out there. It’s not the mothers who have lost their children and it’s certainly not the people who are _dying_ as we speak. You’re helping a select few, the ones that you and Schmidt deem worthy and doesn’t that make you as bad as them?”

Erik placed his now empty mug down on the table and looked at Charles expectantly. The slighter man stared at him wordlessly.

“If you don’t want our help, Erik, just-”

“That’s the thing, Charles; I’m desperate. I’m desperate to leave this place and live a life as far away from here as I can manage. So I will accept your help but I will not throw myself at your feet because you have allowed me basic human rights.” Erik snarled.

Charles simply nodded.

“I did not ask you to, my friend.”


End file.
